Life's True Meaning
by Happy Mask Salesgirl
Summary: Raiga had told Ranmaru that so long as one lived, the other would not die. But when their paths cross once more, can they overcome what has fallen between them? Collab with LightningOugi! :D


_"...you're going to find __**him**__, aren't you, Ranmaru-kun?"_

Karashi stood in the doorway, arms folded, as the younger boy startled from packing the rucksack and turned sharply to meet the question with crimson eyes wide. It was confirmation unto itself, and both of them knew it.

It wasn't meant as an accusation, but it was answered like one.

"Karashi-san..."

An apology, a plea, and more was wrapped around his name with that tone. Karashi studied the floor then, wondering on the truth now that it had been confessed.

Feeling a betrayer to both sides of his heart was an unpleasant facet of life's true meaning for Ranmaru. He remained seated on the bed, his own attention fixed on his trembling hands. Now this betrayal was known also. He swallowed hard, unable to say more.

Karashi looked up finally, eyes mild, smiling his familiar lopsided smile.

"I trust you, Ranmaru-kun."

The brush Ranmaru stood among spilled over a steep hillside to spring into forest at the slope's end, stretched before him to bunch around an old shack that would have seemed long abandoned had it not been for the firelight winking from cracked windows.

This was it.

Even if he did not possess his bloodline, Ranmaru would know this was finally the end of his journey. What sort of end it would be was another matter.

He bit his lip lightly between his teeth. Having long anticipated this final wave of doubt, he told himself again the fears did not matter. He had things he had to say, and he would say them. He had things to do, and he would do them. His eyes flared again, matching the ruddy light winking from the windows, waiting patiently. The worn house was a shop, and for the moment, it had other customers.

There was one thing in life Raiga hated currently--as he had only but a one track mind and it made life simple to only hate one thing at a time--and that was noisy customers. This would-be customer was half-drunk, his friends were half-drunk, and the man wanted to make himself look like a tough guy. Absolutely infuriating. But he kept his tone steady as he spoke, calmly telling the man that no, he did not carry that type of liquor, in fact, he did not carry any liquor at all, and to _please_ try some other shop.

Ranmaru's hands strayed to the hood of his travelling cloak, and he did not hesitate pulling it far over his face. His eyes flared beneath the worn fabric, and he skidded quickly down the hillside, breaking to a run. The other men inside the makeshift shop would prove to be a different sort of trouble than he would be. It was best if one was handled before the other, if necessary.

Raiga's sentiment had not been taken well. Obviously no merchant was allowed to backtalk a slobbering, staggering sad waste of flesh in front of his friends. The nuke-nin felt a first seize his collar, and he was pulled forward, closer to the drunk's dirty face. Fits of revulsion ran through him, his hatred intensifying to the point that his killer intent would have made a shinobi balk. However, senses dulled by lack of training and intoxication, the men were unaware of how violently the cloaked merchant wished to kill them.

"What was that you said?" the drunk sneered, as if thinking the humble shopkeeper was scared out of his wits. Raiga, however, never being a creature capable of deceit, made his distaste clear.

"I said that I don't carry liquor. Now get out." Ugh. The drunk's breath reeked. Disgusting.

He realised what was happening long before it hit him. The arm raised, the fingers curled, making a fist. And, as if in slow motion, the punch neared him. He was faced with a certain choice. He could slaughter the group here and now and deal with whatever shit was brought about by that... or simply let the attack hit him. Perhaps a year ago, the decision would have gone to the former. But today, the hapless drunk got lucky. Knuckles struck his cheek, sending his head back and himself tumbling to the ground. A slurred chorus of laughter came from the group.

The pale hand that suddenly clenched the inebriated man's wrist from behind wrenched the laughter from him. The cloaked stranger had appeared like a ghost, but the fingers furrowing into skin so deep they drew blood beneath blunt nails were brutally real, and they were tightening further still, knuckles whitening with ruthless intent.

In the typical patterns of a casual sadist, pain stopped being funny when the casual sadist experienced it. The man howled, his body jerking in response to the sudden aggression. Raiga smelt blood before he looked up, head spinning slightly, but no other wounds to speak of. And he was being defended?

"Augh! What the hell?!" the drunk yelped, not moving his arm in fear of only increasing his discomfort.

Not yet. There was only one person he needed to answer to. The cloak whipped up with sudden movement, and with a twist of arm and a slender leg, the drunken man was driven into his companions. From his place on the floor behind the counter, Raiga could not see the narrow flash of red eyes as the hooded stranger loomed before them.

But the others certainly did. Raiga watched with a slight disinterest as the group struggled to gather each other and rush into a retreat out the door, every one of them crying out in incoherent horror. At least they were sober enough they could recognize danger when it demonstrated itself in such a vivid way. He found himself on guard now, hairs at the back on his neck prickling. But he stayed down, keeping up his act as the puny salesman.

Ranmaru stood rigid in the center of the small floor, making no further move to follow, breath coming in rapid and ragged puffs. His eyes darkened and dulled.

It didn't matter, this fear. He had things he would say. Things he would to do.

Yet his feet remained rooted where they were.

Raiga's gaze flickered back to his would-be saviour, impassive expression on what little of his face could be seen. There was something... familiar about this person. But he did not recognize their movements, and could not see their face. Perhaps that was what really put him at an unease. "Thank you." He mumbled at last.

The head hidden beneath the stranger's hood drooped. A nod? But it did not raise it again, and instead the stranger turned to the counter, stepping closer.

Ranmaru wanted to cry out, seeing Raiga's large bewildered eyes, heavy brows above them knitted with annoyance at the mystery he was not solving. It had been so long. Too long, and now, seeing him again, it felt as if it had been longer still. Memories of his eyes were not the same as looking into them again. No matter what had ever flashed in them, hate, fear, fury, laughter, mischief, love, what lay behind them was always the same.

So beautiful it hurt.

Raiga's face showed the wear of the lost years, and the hair that had always fallen over it had grown long and tangled with neglect.

So beautiful it hurt.

Ranmaru had always taken comfort in being in control of nearly everything but his crippled body, if only in the sense he could see everything that happened around him if he chose to. With practice, his kekkei genkai allowed him to predict the best direction to move in those times, be it with actions or words.

Raiga had always managed to defy that ability, one way or another. And now more than ever, Ranmaru could not see the way. He could not step further, gulped air like a dying fish. How could he speak this way? The right words, the long-rehearsed words suddenly found themselves jumbled among countless others, and all of them caught in his throat.

Raiga finally moved, sliding back to the wall to lift himself up. His cheek stung lightly, but his attention was taken by the stranger who had neared him. He extended his senses, dulled by disuse, trying to see if he knew this person. Or perhaps if they were some hunter nin who had finally caught up with him.

"What do you want?"

It was a simple statement. What else could he ask?

He was the answer. No more hesitation. A deep breath, a blink, and Ranmaru reached to pull away the hood. His blinked again, harder, as he met the older man's stare, found that his parted lips could not be made to smile. He simply stared back.

Raiga's expression shifted, his calm leaving him, his breath growing cold. That face. That face. A thousand years could go by, and he would still remember that face. The features had changed slightly, in all the years, but the eyes were still the same. Swallowing, he felt the strength seep from his frame, his arms falling to his sides. 'R-ranmaru...' he murmured, and his heart felt like it had fallen into his stomach.

"...Raiga."

Once, that was all they needed to say to know how the other felt. Now...in the years since they were parted, Raiga had cried, cried bitterly, and cried alone. Ranmaru knew it, and knew it was all because of him.

Some shinobi instinct in his mind warned Raiga of what stood before him. How did he not know that this wasn't merely an illusion? Some cunning Genjutsu? Truth be told, he didn't, and he discarded that thought. He reached to pull his own hood back, to shuffle the cloth over his mouth out of his face. So many things came to mind all at once, and he voiced perhaps one of the dullest.

"How did you find me?"

Ranmaru noticed that brief blur of doubt. Raiga suspected it couldn't be true, of course. How to tell him how long he had searched, led more by feelings and his bloodline than real clues? Four years. Sometimes Ranmaru had to think on it to remember, it flew by so fast. The goal had made the winding road seem much straighter than it was. He had asked no one's help in this, even under lies and excuses, remained as silent and hidden as any assassin. Only Karashi-san and Sanshou-baasan knew where he was heading, though none of them knew where it would really lead.

"I had to." he whispered at last. "I knew..."

_I knew you didn't really kill yourself_, was what he was going to say, but his voice left him.

_I'm sorry_, his eyes finished instead. _I'm so sorry._

Raiga wasn't sure how to react. No. This was a scene out of a dream. Some surreal vision he was imagining. He turned his eyes suddenly, shifting away from the boy before him, wrapping his arms around around his own shoulders. Why had Ranmaru... Why had he searched him out? How.. no. Why had he cared if Raiga had faked his death?

There was pain in his child's--No. Ranmaru wasn't his child anymore. He had grown, and grown away. But the boy seemed... near to weeping.

"What...what is it you want from me?"

Ranmaru swallowed hard, having long ago consolidated that very question into a single answer. An answer that he thought, at the time, would be easy to speak even if he was in the very state he was now.

It wasn't easy after all. It seemed impossible now that the time was truly here, in fact, and his determination quailed. But remembering what he had said then, what he said then that brought all the pain he heard in the question now...the horrible way he had brought everything they had crashing to an end...his eyes calmed, and his parted lips pressed thin. "I want to give you back everything I took from you."

For a moment Raiga stared out at nothing, eyes blank, mind quiet. He stewed over those words that seemed to echo within him. When he turned to face the boy again, his expression was soft, but his disbelief had faded.

"You took nothing from me." He muttered back, hands clutching harder at his shoulders. "Ranmaru, is that really you?"

_I can no longer remember when you were good._

His crimson eyes brimmed as he nodded, face burning. Raiga's voice sounded nothing like it did then, when he spat what, to Ranmaru, were supposed to be his last words. He sounded like he did...when he could remember.

The stiffness in his arms slowly drained from him, and Raiga slumped his shoulders. Finally he came off of the wall and approached his boy.

"You've grown a lot," Raiga murmured, the subject fading into sentimental nothings.

And yet the real question still broiled under the surface. Why was he here?

He still wasn't quite as tall as Raiga, the top of his head barely brushing past his chin. But yes, the younger had tried to grow a lot, in many ways. A slight smile finally traced his lips, though it was a fragile thing, and his hands left the hood to fall free at last. "You look...just the same."

Raiga gave a soft snort at that, even though his humour was barely alive in him. Perhaps he might have laughed had this been someone else.

"I see that you are walking well... Does it feel good not being carried around?"

Ranmaru's smile vanished in an instant, tightened to a guilty line, and his eyes clouded.

_Did it feel good to no longer need him?_

"It feels good to be standing here."

Raiga parted his lips, a bit of surprise crossing his face. To... be standing here? Then why was there so much hurt in his face?

"Ranmaru, what is it you want from me?" He approached closer, and the boy was nearly at arm's length.

Silence was Ranmaru's only reply for long moments, though his eyes did not leave Raiga's.

"I'm so sorry." he managed at last. Not a whisper, not a small voice, not this time, but so weak nonetheless. His hands clenched, and the hurt drained from his face, leaving it hollow and blank, a practiced acceptance of all he carried since Raiga had stopped carrying him.

"Sorry? Sorry for what?" Raiga's voice held an edge, however dulled his emotions had become over time. There was a slight bit of distaste in his eyes, as if this was something he did not want to deal with.

Especially with that empty look on Ranmaru's face.

Ranmaru had not forgotten that particular expression, one that said Raiga was being faced with more than he could handle. He remembered how he had soothed that then, and found himself desperate for the comfort as well. His gaze dropped to the floor, and when he looked up he smiled fully, a happy mask for them both. "I want...I want to be two in one again." There was more genuine hope in the statement than he thought to dare.

Aggression faded, replaced by a cold shock.

"W-what? ...And what of your friends, then, Ranmaru?" Words came before he could stop himself, "What made you change your mind?"

He took a step forward, his voice a mixture of pent-up sorrow, and the same hope the other seemed to be carrying,

The younger shook his head, holding that smile, though hearing his own vulnerability echoed in Raiga's voice made his eyes sting again. "I never changed my mind about you. I never wanted us to be apart." He lifted his eyes, searching Raiga's face. Every line that had not been there before was surely carved by what he had done back then, one way or another.

He could not regret saving the Konoha nin, saving Karashi-san and Sanshou-baasan. But how he regretted the consequence.

"You said I would never die so long as you were alive. I knew I still had you to live for, somewhere."

So Ranmaru knew...all along that he wouldn't have killed himself. The boy was always smarter than he.

But that Ranmaru always wanted him around? That was--however much it stung to say--unknown to Raiga. And yet he recalled that look on the boy's face as he lept off that cliff, that wide-eyed look that seemed to scream a bitter plea.  
It was his selfishness, to think that he was the only one aching from their seperation. That much he would acknowkedge.  
He spread his arms out, weakly, "I'm here, then. You've found me."

Learning to skirt the edges of the gap left by that separation had been a far more painful lesson for Ranmaru than learning the kitchen beneath Karashi-san's demanding ladle. He had for so long entertained dreams of this, no matter what punishment may have awaited him, just so long as he did not stare instead into the void without Raiga.

Now...his eyes widened at the outstretched arms, mouth dry and working soundlessly.

He was smart. He should have expected nothing else. Of anyone in the world, he knew who Raiga really was.

"If you want to be with me, I'm here." Raiga continued, "You've come and I can't turn you away."

He shut his eyes then and chewed his lip. Would Ranmaru really stay with him...?

The arms that wrapped around Raiga were much stronger than the frail ones the nuke-nin remembered, and, startled, he looked down. Ranmaru bowed his head against his chest, trying hard not to cry out, knowing that would only upset him. Did he even have any reason to cry now? He forced back the tears, breathed in Raiga's warmth, his living scent, and managed a nod. "I never left." Not a small voice, but it broke, however unwillingly.

A soft inhale, and Raiga breathed out a sigh. His hands hung still, before he shifted, to loosely wrap an arm around the boy's shoulders. And--in a timid gesture of their past affection--he ran his hand through his hair, stroking his scalp.

"I... really wanted to say sorry." He muttered, letting his bare thoughts creep out as words, "For threatening you, like I did."  
No excuses. Just... apologies. It was the most he could muster, even at this point.

Back then, there were no threats. There were promises of a funeral for Ranmaru, promises only broken by the Konoha nin. Ranmaru shook his head, and his grip tightened as he shivered to the touch. It was an easy thing to forget, so easy, when he remembered everything Raiga was to him. "And I'm sorry I hurt you. I never will again." He kept his head down, pressing in to discreetly soak away the wetness crawling down his cheeks with Raiga's rough cloak.

Flickers of the overprotective concern that had been so common back when they were together reached the surface. The nuke-nin almost drew backwards, placing his hands on Ranmaru's quaking shoulders.

"R-ranmaru..?" His tone was worried, as if he didn't understand that the teen was crying.

A bright smile again, his eyes closed with the broadness of it, as the boy looked up. "I'm all right so long as you are." His voice had grown softer, but the smile was echoed with it. A small giggle escaped him. "But I'm still so short compared to you."

A smile tugged at Raiga's own lips and an overwhelming sense of relief came to him. Even if he had grown... this was his Ranmaru returned to him. He could debate inwardly whether he deserved this as much as he wanted, but it was Ranmaru!

While he should have asked for permisssion in the movement, he acted nonetheless, slipping his hands under the teen's arms and lifting him off the ground. It took a lot more effort than it once did. But...

"I can still pick you up!" His voice was half a laugh.

The empty years filled with that single moment, and Ranmaru laughed fully, carelessly, feeling more like he was flying than he ever had when he was small and Raiga had danced this dance with him. He looked down, delicate hands squeezing the much stronger hands at his waist. Raiga's face glowed, and Ranmaru knew that no matter what, the shadows clinging to it still would not remain. His smirked mischievously. "I could try to pick YOU up, now."

That caught Raiga's attention. He set the boy down, tilting his head like a curious hound. "Lift me up?" He was more than a bit puzzled at this, but the happiness in his heart let him play along, "I don't know, Ranmaru, I'm pretty heavy."

Ranmaru chuckled, hands trailing down to feel out Raiga's sides beneath the cloak. "That's why I said try." A grin, and he pushed in, and pushed up.

Raiga gave a muffled sound of surprise in being handled in such away, and his body shifted from the lift. Another push, and he felt his toes leave the floor, however briefly.

Ranmaru... did have some strength in his arms. It was slightly jarring for him.  
"You are not a fragile child anymore... are you?" He spoke, a playful look still on his features.

Ranmaru beamed up, resting his chin to Raiga's chest, feeling the heartbeat within match his own, and though his teeth ground with the effort, and his arms shivered under the strain, he did not let go. Two in one. He eased his grip a moment later and set Raiga down, having guessed the attempt would be futile even though he felt he could lift the entire world in one hand. "I had to become strong. I will just have to keep trying until I can lift you just as high."

"How did you train, Ranmaru?" Raiga's head was tilted again, this time with less of a smile, "Did you find someone to train you?"  
Something in him was cheery even knowing that, thinking already of him passing on his techniques to his companion.

Well, whichever ones Ranmaru could manage. But with his eyes, the boy could surpass him. That thought made him inwardly frown, however. He still wanted to be seen as a protector.

_"Ranmaru-kun! That is your way of the ninja!"_

Or his way of the not-ninja, the boy would gently tease his would-be teacher, Lee-san. Ranmaru held no illusions, he would never be a ninja, even if he'd wished to be. But he took what training he could when Lee-san came to visit Karashi-san, and more enthusiastically than Karashi-san ever did. He was faster than Karashi, but not nearly fast enough to ever hope of catching Lee. It was a sad irony that the bloodline limit which left him an orphan should find its final resting place in one who could never use it to its potential.

But there was only one mission he would ever wish to take anyway, and now, it was complete...like himself.

"You did." Ranmaru murmured, lowering his eyes, faint smile still warming his lips. "Others trained me, practiced with me, but I remembered you, and that is what guided me most of all."

That reply took Raiga off-guard, but also it pleased him greatly. The boy was appealing to both his pride and sentimentality, and that struck home.

"I want to teach you a few things," a slight pause, "maybe even to wield a sword."

That was something he felt he had to teach his kid, even if he detested the Seven Shinobi Swordsmen and everything that they stood for. It was more of an instictive drive, as it faintly reminded him of Momochi and Hoshigaki.

His hands slid into Raiga's, and he squeezed them, nodding readily. He wanted to hear everything Raiga wanted to say to him, always. "Raiga. Swords...I brought yours back to you, too."

His eyes widened, and he felt his heart leap once again. His swords, his extensions of himself, his beloved, loyal weapons? It was the second best reunion he could have possibly received, and the best was standing before him. He was nearly drowning in his own euphoria.

"You've kept them for me, Ranmaru? They didn't shock you, did they?"

He reached behind his back, carefully taking them from beneath his cloak, relishing the new look of happiness on Raiga's face. "No. See?" he offered them forward, "they hum when I hold them."

He clasped his hands over Ranmaru's, feeling the friendly pulse of electrical energy from his swords. They greeted him, still recognizing him after his long absence. His swords were sentient, like Hoshigaki's Sameheda. But it surprised him that they recognized Ranmaru. They acknowledged beings other than their owner? The electrical pulse drew up a notch, in an almost playful fashion, sending tingling feelings all up his arm.

Ranmaru's smile softened tenderly, feeling it play along his own arms, too. "They missed you. Like I did."

Raiga's own grin grew a bit gentler, in spite of the fact they were holding deadly blades. Affection from a sword, that was unique, yet still heartwarming.

"Thank you for bringing them to me, Ranmaru."

Ranmaru nodded silently, then met Raiga's eyes, his own shining. There were still too many words for such simple feelings, and they all seemed so unnecessary now.

Raiga lingered in the feeling for the moment, the feeling as though his life had just been handed back to him. It was such a sense of relief...and of joy. It swelled in him, before he could even hope to contain it, and it escaped from him in a choking sob. He wrapped his arms around Ranmaru's shoulders. He was crying, and he was happy, the clumsied tears streaming down his face, his body shaking with those sobs. No words could escape him, all his energy poured into the sweet, sweet display of grief. He stumbled to his knees.

Ranmaru pressed him close and tightly, feeling his own tears slide freely at last as he lost himself in Raiga's dark hair. It was happiness itself to see him cry freely, genuinely, instead of needing the formality of funerals to release emotions he should never have been made to deny. And he was crying for joy, joy that this was bringing him, instead of sorrow that was brought in the past.

"We will always be with you." he murmured against his ear, not at all certain Raiga could hear him above the sobs, but not caring.

_"That's right! There's nothing to be afraid of as long as you're with me!"_

His red eyes lidded, more of his own tears welling beneath the lashes like the rain he used to weep to in those lost years they were apart. "I love you so much."

Raiga heard, and it only made his cries more profound, as he stooped to rest his chin on his boy's shoulder, nestling his head against his.  
In between shaking inhales and hysterical sobs, he tried to mouth a reply. But he could do little but embrace Ranmaru tighter, and wait for his passion to pass, weathering an inward storm.

Words were never really needed between them before, and now, Ranmaru felt he knew again exactly what was being said. He responded equally, using the new strength in his arms and the same strength he'd always held in his heart.

He noticed then Raiga had become thinner than he remembered. He smiled dreamily against his shoulder. He would fix that soon enough, too. Karashi-san and Sanshou-baasan had made sure he was well-supplied before leaving, and he had carried those spices more carefully than he had his own provisions. This time, there would be no mistakes.

Eventually Raiga's breathing steadied into more managable little gasps and sniffles. His face was still wet when he finally pulled away, a beaming smile on his lips.

"S-so, Ranmaru, how d-do you like my shop?" He asked, between intermittant sniffs.

Ranmaru kept his hands gripped in Raiga's cloak, and looked around, having truly not noticed anything else since he arrived. The house was worn within as it had been without, but it was clean, and stocked well with various wares. It reminded him a lot of the kitchens he'd left, and that brightened his smile just a little more. "It's wonderful." he replied at last, lifting a hand to him then to brush away the streaked tears. "Do you like running it?"


End file.
